9/11 really
was a turning point in world history. Since that event, security has been
strengthened everywhere. The watchful
eye of Big Brother has become ubiquitous.
No matter that the methods become intrusive and violate everyone’s personal
rights, so long as thousands of lives are saved. Those in charge of our security—whether
elected or not—can also count on using this argument to further their own
agendas.
It is here
that our favorite super spy from the Cold War era, James Bond (Daniel Craig),
still finds himself tugged in several directions between the old and new
ways. The old traditions of going into
the field and killing the evildoers, or not, is dying hard. Then there are the
new ways of posting cameras everywhere so that not even a terminally ill
criminal can commit suicide in peace.
The theme of
SPECTRE—the conflict of the old and the new—is carried over from Skyfall. In the old corner, we have Bond, M and the
rest of MI6, clinging to tradition of traveling the globe and personally
dispatching the bad guy. In the new
corner is an ambitious bureaucrat called “C” (Andrew Scott), who is eager to
shut down the OO section and establish a global surveillance network that could
ultimately merge with SPECTRE, which is headed by a sinister looking figure by
the name of Blofeld.
Ah, but the
merger is stymied when one nation votes against the idea, defeating a motion
which requires total agreement among the participants. Oh, what to do? Launch a furious propaganda campaign designed
to convince the people that their errant leaders made the wrong choice? Or launch a terror attack, dramatizing the
need for global, omnipresent surveillance?
The first
option takes too long and the results are unpredictable. The bureaucrats sneer
at democracy, and create a crisis to justify their ends. Ciao, Cape Town.
Blofeld (Cristoph
Waltz) is charming and comes complete wearing Nehru jacket and his white
Persian in tow. (It is so good to see
the white Persian on the big screen again.
When we last saw him in For Your Eyes Only he was scampering for his
life while his wheelchair bound owner was dumped into a very tall factory
smokestack.) Now Blofeld is on a first
name basis with Bond and (hint, hint) treats him like a despised little
brother.
Okay, let’s
get this straight, Blofeld. All of your
dastardly plots from the 60s, which included hijacking nuclear missiles, blackmailing
the entire world, or an intergalactic laser beam to destroy nuclear arsenals and further your ambitions for global domination from a base
inside a volcano, was all due to the
worst case of sibling rivalry in human history? Seriously, Blofeld?
Although Bond has to endure yet another
torture episode (a holdover from the original Fleming novels), things end up
badly for Blofeld. As we all know by now,
Bond tends to leave death and destruction (see the urban renewal project he
completed in Mexico City in the film's prologue) in his wake. Blofeld fares no better in his encounter with
Bond.
I’ll admit
I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but why did it take me until SPECTRE to realize
that the opening credit sequences in the Bond films are surreal dream sequences
plumbing the depths of Bond’s psyche. D’oh! How else can I explain the image of Bond
meeting one of his Bond girls beneath an octopus that is easily fifty feet
high. Imagine an octopus that tall and
no humongous deep fryer and fifty gallon drum of cocktail sauce to be found
anywhere!
This latest
Bond installment carries the tradition of thrills and satisfying cinema
experience. From the vertigo inducing
helicopter flight fight over Mexico City to the final pursuit down the Thames,
there is enough eye popping and ear drum splitting explosions to satisfy the hardest
Bond fan. Yes, the story does lose its
way (where exactly have we met the terminally ill Mr. White before?), and the
end is not necessarily a clear win for the good guys.
Skyfall was
a game changer for the franchise; SPECTRE changed it further.
For one,
Moneypenny gets a life! Moneypenny has
been sighing over Bond for over 50 years!
Bond, ever mindful of the perils of on the job romances, would be
flirtatious, but never took her loaded suggestions/advances to first base. In SPECTRE, Bond contacts Moneypenny while
dodging assassins in a high speed chase through the streets of Rome late at
night, and determines that she is NOT alone in her London flat when he calls. Way to go, Moneypenny! Of course this leaves Bond free to pursue
romance elsewhere.
Also, M and Q
get more involved in the field than ever before. M (Ralph Fiennes) fights for his career and
the future of the OO section against the previously mentioned formidable figure
known only as C (or, as M pegs him, cocky as in cocky bastard). Q (Ben Wishaw) is a bit of an anomaly. He is loyal to M and the old ways, yet always has his laptop at the ready,
prepared to take down surveillance networks nearly - and let’s emphasize the word
nearly - as quickly as Bond can draw his Walther PPK.
For another,
the Bond girl lives beyond the closing credits.
This was unheard of in many of the previous films. This was tradition dating back to the first
Bond novel. Not this time: at the end of SPECTRE Bond and his newest
love (Lea Seydoux) drive off in his fully rebuilt Aston-Martin into the
sunset. Now there’s a scene on which to end the
franchise. Oh, but how can we just
end the greatest money-making film franchise in history?
It is in
that end that we find the conflict is compromised. Old edifices implode and the villain is not
entirely vanquished, allowed to face justice and die another day.
Okay, Daniel
Craig gets to drive off into the sunset and perhaps a second career behind the
camera (he is listed as co-producer for SPECTRE), but what about us? Those of us who sat through the credits—there
must have been hundreds of stunt extras—were rewarded with the four words we
longed to see: JAMES BOND WILL RETURN.
Whew, that
was close!
(Thank you
for reading. Bartender, a round of vodka
martinis shaken not stirred, for everyone!)
